


The Door That Opened

by Star4545



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Flowers, Fluff and Angst, Lies, M/M, Mute Dan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-08
Updated: 2016-04-08
Packaged: 2018-05-31 22:30:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6489895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Star4545/pseuds/Star4545
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dan's life wasn't as good he wanted it to be. He never talks, and his best friend doesn't even know his real name. Everything changed though when his door of sadness closed and a happier one was opened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Door That Opened

I'm picking my skin. Not at the fading cuts, or at the skin that lies right where my teeth can bite it. I pick at my face, at the many pimples, and small cuts that seem way too easy to just leave alone, and at my skin around my fingers, leaving them a mess. My nails themselves are messy from my biting. Most of my hair has been pulled out from my constant yanking at it. My eyes are dull and hold no emotion or life behind them. I just let life go on. Maybe that was my first mistake.

-

I was never one to be able to go through life smiling at every instance. I was the person that would sit alone at recess and sulk. That's beside the point, since now I have grown, and even then I cannot find good in the person I've become. Everyone says personality is key to everything in this topsy turvey world. In that case, I would be labeled as depressed by actually everyone. Even though that might be correct, I still wouldn't want people calling me that. It's been that way for a long time.

I sit in math class, staring at the board with mathematic equations that seem foreign, like some other language. My mind is somewhere else. I could lie and say I wasn’t thinking about how to get out of this place; school, this town, this world. But who am I kidding, once I get home the thoughts would consume me even more than they were at that moment. Nothing ever seemed right.

I could again lie and say this story wouldn't have the main character who always wanted to just get out. But again who am I kidding. Being a hormonal teenager barely helps the matter, the matter of everything. My emotions change in a moment when the teacher seems to stop talking, and the door opens. Everything in my mind seemed to go haywire. I barely remember that day, barely remember anything. When that door opened, so did my life, my everything. But I'm getting ahead of myself, so let's rewind.

Childhood never seemed great. People always look back and think about the simple times of childhood; innocence, playfulness, lovingness. Those adjectives did anything but describe how my childhood turned out. There were times when I would sit, and say, 'jeez why aren't I like those kids.' Then I realized why would I ever want to be like them; obnoxious, snobbish, overall annoying pieces of crap. I would sit there, looking at my classmates, shaking my head.

Here you are probably already sitting here annoyed and confused. And though I would love to share the horrid story of my childhood, I just don't think I know you well enough to share. So, anyway, me sitting on the stairs, contemplating life at the young age of only five years old. From that age point on, I knew there was always that one thing that set me aside from everyone else. That one thing that made me stand out, and unapproachable. Every kid had known about it, yet they never said anything, it hurt me.

As I moved from playground to playground, I would find myself sitting it the same position; hands on my knees, hunched over to look at my feet, rarely ever looking up. As I grew, and found myself sitting at less and less playgrounds, I couldn't find that time to think, that time to look at my shoes, only to hope to find something new with them. There was never anything new, expect maybe some new scrapes. My shoes showed how I felt inside, beat up and once taken off, useless. Limp objects that could lie there for days without doing anything, aka my heart and soul.

I, as a person, never had time to lie there and do nothing with life. Even if I wanted to go die in a hole, that was pretty impossible for me to do without getting caught. I didn't want to live my life to the fullest, but I was forced to anyway. That was only one of hundreds of things I hated about me and my life. If I were to make a list of these things, it was take me forever… maybe I should start writing then. At least then I could have something fulfilling in my life.

Playgrounds: slides, grass, swings, and children. As you can probably tell by now as I've mentioned playground about a hundred times, they were a big part of my life. It might seem stupid, every kid has experiences with a playground, ether in their hearts or what. When I was about eight, I went to a park near my house. That day I met the only person that ever talked to me without being forced to. I don't really remember how it happened, I mentally blocked out what has happened from my childhood, but I do remember him coming up to me as I was sitting on the stairs, looking at the practically empty park, and he says, "My mum says not to talk to strangers, but you look like a nice stranger. I'm PJ."

PJ became my brother, where I went, so did he. When I would go to the bathroom, the boy would ask to come, even now. He is constantly worried. I lied to him and told him I would never leave him, but who am I kidding, I probably will. No matter how much I love him, he knows I'm not going to stay much longer. He's known for a long time.

I remember an instance from that day, he took me to the swings and we sat there. For two eight years old, PJ had shown much intelligence. PJ had seen my fingers, and grabbed them, when he was taking a break from his constant swinging. "Why are they like this?" I shrug, not responding. "Are you hurting yourself?" I nod. PJ purses his lips. "Gotta stop. I don't like seeing pain, Mal." I never told PJ my name, even now, he learned after a couple tries that I would never tell him, because I hate it. PJ has always just called me Mal. I don't really know why, he has refused to tell me, but I've accepted it by now.

After that, he hopped off the swing and brought back a dandelion, and puts it in my hair. "That is better. Ain't it, Mal?" I shrug. "You look pretty with that in your hair, to feel pretty put dandelions in your hair." I followed his instructions as a kid, I always followed what PJ told me for the return of him being there for me. Up until this day, I still have never said a word out loud to him, but for some reason he sticks by me. Now, I realize, I put less dandelions in my hair, PJ had stopped bringing them to me, so I stopped putting them in my hair, it seemed childish anyway.

I said earlier that I have blocked out my childhood, it wasn't bad, but I hated it anyway. The adults in my life would always make me feel less of myself, send me outside to play with other kids or whatever. I decided from a young age that talking was not my forte. My voice as a kid was scratchy, and I hated it. It was squeaky, all over the place, awful. I also realized from a young age that I did not look like the other kids. To myself, I was a fat kid. PJ had always said, "Mal, you aren't fat at all." I never believed him.

A lot of other things went wrong from my earliest memory, me sitting at a show in my father's lap at age four, to meeting PJ at age 8. My favorite pair of shoes gaining holes, allowing me not to wear them, the oven incident, where I almost burned the house down, and my cousin… beating me up. We don't talk about that though.

After age 8, I wouldn't say things got better, because that phrase is cliché, overused, and untrue in most circumstances. Whoever came up with that phrase is the epitome of cliché, because never, ever, do things get better. Especially since age 8 to fifteen. It seemed like every single day after my 8th birthday, things just went wrong. Oh, you're parents don't buy you that Barbie doll you wanted all the way up to, you have failed two tests in one day. I would never say that I was cursed, but I might be. Then again if I was cursed, many things probably would have never happened. I probably wouldn't have found Peej, even though I sometimes hate him.

When I became a teenager, I started to notice little things that PJ would always do. He was get close to me, and let our arms brush, and give me compliments. At this point, I had known my fair share of romantic gestures. Soon I realized, PJ like me. No one ever have had a crush on me before, I never understood the whole thing, till I realized what my best friend was doing. I remember an instance when we were lying on his bed, a dandelion flower crown he had bought me lying on his desk, and he asks me, "Mal, have you ever kissed someone before." I shake my head. "Would you like to kiss me?" And before I could even shake my head, PJ's lips were on mine. I couldn't do anything, I was frozen in my spot. This was my first kiss after all, and I could assume it was his too. I sloppily kiss back, unsure if I was even doing it right. It was awful, and for some reason PJ thought it was good. Yet after his lips leave mine, I shake my head, grab the crown, and walk out. I could've lost my friend that day. Thankfully, by the time we entered high school, he didn't care for me like that anymore.

I remember my first day of high school well. It wasn't particularly different from any of the other days going into school during my middle school years. All I felt was a tiny sense of accomplishment for staying alive through all the unpleasant middle school years. Middle school is the worst; puberty and all that. But the fact is, on that first day of high school, I said to myself, 'these four years will be different.' So far, nothing has changed.

First days are always awful for me. First, the teacher knows nobodies' names hence the dramatically long roll call. As soon as I met PJ, I made sure my teachers called me Mal so PJ would never know my real name, but the whole first day thing is always terrible. Second, teachers always make me try and talk. They always ask me, 'why aren't you speaking,' and call me disrespectful. This can go one of two ways, if PJ is in the class me will explain to the teacher that I don't like talking and tells them that I'm mute. Or the douchebag that always sits in the back corner of the room shouts loudly, so everyone hears, "MUTE FREAK!" Only for me to be judged not only by my fellow classmates, but my teacher as well. The teacher never stops the name calling, and always isolates me from the rest of the class like I'm some type of alien. Unfair, I know, but it's not like I can do anything about it. The third and final thing that is awful during the first day, everyone tries to act all buddy buddy with you. "Oh, how was your summer?" And it seems like every other person's summer was ten times better than yours. Don't get me wrong, I love staying inside watching movies all day while I wait for PJ to get off work and bring me food, but another part of me wants to go zip lining around a foreign paradise.

As my sophomore year rolls around, PJ and I start to fall apart. This is the last thing in the one big gap of years. From 8 to 15 this is definitely the worst thing that happened. I don't remember how it happened. PJ started dating, leaving me in the dust, I became super depressed and anxious about everything. I think he just got fed up, because he would tell me everything, and I would always be there silently listening, yet never respond. It was sad, and he blocked my number after a couple days of fighting, and never unblocked it. Now, me being seventeen going on eighteen, he still hasn't unblocked me. Now, he gives me dirty glares in the hallway, and avoids me. I still don't know what I did to deserve this.

Did I hurt him? Emotionally or physically? I don't think so. Talk about him behind his back? No way. Cause anything in life to turn out badly? Nope. Did I break his heart? Maybe. Yet, I still don't understand. He was so nice to me before sophomore year, he was my best friend, my rock. I told myself that after I lost PJ that I could never have friends. He was the only one that would tell me I'm beautiful, and give me compliments even if that day I was down. He always knew what to say.

So now, I am alone. I eat lunch alone, spend my weekends alone, and find myself sitting back at parks, staring at my beat up converse, hoping to find a change in them. The parks don't change, and where I sit doesn't change. All that changes are the kids, the ones who go there to have fun, to forget, to live with their pure innocence that I don't have and haven't had for years. I look to the left of the playground to see a patch of dandelions, the ones I used to have tangled in my hair. The ones PJ used to stick there for me, and I can't. I miss him. I miss the way we had this undermining sense of trust even though he never knew my real name and never heard me speak, yet he trusted me that day. The one where we sat in the garden.

By the time by junior year of high school was over, after almost a year of not talking or making any type of friendly contact with PJ, I try. I write on a piece of paper in my notebook. My blocky, yet legible handwriting read an _'I'm sorry._ ' I go into the cafeteria to see him sitting with boy. The unfamiliar boy I know had waved at me a couple times in the hallways, but I was unaware of his name.  The boy waves at me as I tap PJ on the shoulder, who at first turns around only to see it's me, and turn back around to talk to his friend. I tap his shoulder again, and he lets out an unfriendly groan. I saw him my notebook, and I assume he reads the message before knocking my notebook down to the dirty floor. I scoff, wondering what I did. Why was he so damn pissed at me?

I go into the classroom that I had my next class in, and lie my head on the desk. I didn't eat lunch that day, I was nauseated. Soon, I feel a tap on my own shoulder, which takes me out of my trance. Standing there was the boy that PJ was sitting with earlier. "Hey Mal, I'm Chris. I just wanted to apologize for PJ's behavior, it was really uncalled for. He shouldn't have done that." I shrug, grabbing a pencil and a piece of paper.

**What did I do to make him so pissed at me?**

"He's still in love with you." My mouth hangs open a bit. After all these years, PJ was still in love with me. "-and you broke his heart. I guess he's a bit salty." I roll my eyes.

**It's been years. Why hasn't he gotten past it?**

"I don't know. I'll try and convince him to talk to you." I smile, and nod. I hope he could accomplish that task.

So the rest of the day trudges on without any interaction from PJ whatsoever. I didn't mind, at least now I knew why he hated me so much. At least now I could sleep. I didn't feel much guilt. It wasn't like I was ever leading him on, ever made him believe for some reason we could be a thing. But as I got home, and I entered my room. I glanced at my dresser to see the precious flower crown I wore all through middle school that PJ had given to me. I walk over, and hold it. I realize then, there was no need to keep it. PJ couldn't ever tell me I was pretty again, because he is no longer my friend, giving the flower crown no significance anymore.

I take a pair of scissors, about to cut up the one thing that reminded me of the only person to make me happy. I was close to making the first cut, when I fell cold hands stop me. Standing there was PJ in all his glory. "Don't do it. Please." I put down the crown and scissors, before turning away from the boy that has made me feel like crap the past two years. "I'm sorry about earlier, and about everything. I was just agitated, I guess."

"It's hard to be friends with someone who won't talk to you, and someone that hasn't told you things about their life, even though you have told them everything. Not to mention, I'm still have a crush on you." I look at him. I didn't mean to hurt him.

I grab a piece of paper. **I really am sorry. If I would've known, I could've told you more things.**

"I don't even know your real name for god's sakes." I could've told him right then and there, and in hind sight, I probably should have. But I didn't, all I did was shake my head. "C'mon Mal, I'll even keep calling you that if you just tell me your real name. Why is that so hard?" By this point I was fed up. Anything I would write on paper would just ruin everything.

"Because I hate it! My real name is stupid! You don't need to know it and that’s final!" And I realize, through years of knowing PJ those were the first words I ever spoken to him. He looks at me, mouth opened slightly, gaping, amazed that I actually spoke words.

"Y-You just talked…" I nod, going back to my quiet self. Don't get used to it. He laughs, I missed that laugh.

**Can we be friends again? I miss you.**

"Yeah Mal, friends sounds nice."

Now back to today. Senior year, an agonizingly long math class, and a closed door about to be opened. Like every cliché story, I was zoning out in the back of the classroom, the teacher going on and on about some math equation I will never use, and the door opens with the dazed and confused new student, who started to ramble uncontrollably to the teacher about being late. The boy had black hair and shining blue eyes, his uniform new and crisp. He looked so beautiful, so rare, stunning. I was never one to believe in love at first sight, but looking at him, it seemed like my beliefs were not taken into favor.

The new boy takes a seat quickly, sadly not next to me, and before the teacher could even start to talk again, one of the popular girls decided she needed to tell the new kid all about me. She points to me and loudly says, "Mal is mute." I could feel the heat rushing to my face. My chances were definitely gone now, goodbye future boyfriend. He looks at me, and gives me a sincere smile.

"Thank you for that fact, Audrey, now back to math." I let out a small groan, and I once again start to zone out.

Class doesn’t go by any quicker, I find myself almost asleep. I couldn't stay awake, I couldn't risk staring at the new kid, even though I desperately wanted to. As soon as class ended, popular girls started to swarm around him, and I realize, I was no competition to the pretty girls surrounding him. I was just his mute classmate, an outcast to them all. 

It was a two weeks later when PJ finally asked, "What's going on with you and the new kid? I've only seen stares like those in some romance movie I watched." I look at him confused, I was not, underline not, staring at the new kid.

**What are you talking about? I do not stare at the new kid!**

"Yes you do, and he stares at you back." PJ remarks.

**In what class?**

"Art."

**You aren't even in my art class.**

"I've got eyes on the inside." I scoff. "Listen, I'm worried okay. I'm your best friend, I have the right to be. Especially when you stare at some guy that isn't me."

**I do not stare at him.**

"Fine, say that. I'll believe it when I see it."

Then I start to realize, PJ was right. Constantly, I would look over to his desk to look at his art… or maybe just him, his face mostly. Then he would catch me, we would look at each other for less than a second, blush, and look away to go back to our projects, most of the time feeling embarrassed and flustered. Sometimes I would catch him staring at me as well. The whole process would keep going for the whole fifty minutes of art class we share. In that small interval of time, I had gotten to realize how beautiful his side profile is, and his front profile, and everything that makes up that boy's face.

I want to approach him. I do. But what can a mute do? I don't want to speak, and anything I write might sound weird, and I'm never was good at conversation but- Oh my gosh, he is coming toward me. He is coming toward me before art class has even started. His smile is so cute, and oh my gosh he is sitting next to me.

"Um… hi." He says, northern accent flowing through my ears. "I'm Phil Lester, and we've been making googly eyes at each other apparently." I laugh, and both of our cheeks are bright red. I look around for a piece of lined paper, and finally write down.

**I'm Mal. The mute.**

"Is that your real name or-"

**If you are doing this out of pity, I don't want it.**

"No!" He says, looking around the room warily. "I-I think you are really cute, and I want to get to know you…because…um… I-I…" Phil takes a deep breath. Phil, the name suits him. "-Because you seem pretty cool." I laugh, me 'cool.' It was a funny joke that only me, myself, and I would understand.

 **Did PJ put you up to this?** Phil shakes his head. **Chris?** Shakes his head again. **Some jock trying to humiliate me by having me talk to a really cute guy.** Phil laughs, shaking his head, his tongue pointed out of his mouth just the slightest.

"I just wanted to talk to you." I sigh, smiling, and grabbing my art piece from the back of the room to continue to work on it. Phil sits next to me that period, not really saying anything, but that's okay, because he is still there, present.

When classed end, I thought he would leave and never talk to me again. I thought wrong, because he grabbed his things, and I grabbed mine. We walk out into the hallway together, and he plants a quick kiss on my cheek, leaving me flustered, and shocked, while he runs outside. I don't even try to find PJ, all I do is follow Phil outside.

I see him sitting on the bench, and I sit next to him, and give him a kiss on his cheek, making him gasp. I giggle, and he smiles at me. "My mum's here. I hope to talk to you more on Monday." I nod, and he runs off to his car. I watch, completely forgetting today was Friday, and for once I don't want it to be.

"What the fuck was that? Kissing the new boy on his cheek. That's gutsy." PJ says, making me stand up, and he starts to walk me home. 

I had a lot of things on my mind that day. One overcoming all of them, I want to talk to Phil. I was scared. Unsure that I completely agreed with my insane thoughts. I would probably explain them to Peej later, since he is my voice of reason 99% of the time.

We get to my place, and we go inside. I was soon greeted, and I ignore them, heading to my room. PJ flops down on my bed before I have even put my bag down, and I quickly take off my shoes to join him on my mostly uncomfortable bed.

"So, you and new kid…" PJ starts. I grabs my notebook.

**I just met him, his name is Phil. Pretty nice.**

"AKA, you've got the hots for him." I blush. PJ has never seen me when I have a crush, but this one seemed different.

**No I do not. I just… his face is cute.**

"I will need to approve of this boy before this goes any farther." I laugh. I do want PJ and even Chris to like Phil. PJ is my best friend and if he doesn't approve then everything will go haywire.

**Let me get to know him more first. It might turn out we are nothing alike and not compatible.**

I was completely and utterly wrong. Nothing could've been more wrong. Through conversations, well him talking while I write, before art class I had learned we liked the exact same everything, and Phil was the sweetest guy. My actually dream in one. I had kept my thoughts of talking to him down some, the thought coming up every once in a while. But I never asked PJ that one day, or any other day. I just kept it down, because I knew I probably would chicken out.

"So, are you busy this weekend?" Phil asks, while making a sculpture out of clay. I shake my head. "Good, because I want to take you on a date." If I had water, I would've done a spit take. "If you want to… I'm sorry, did I come off too strong? I know I shouldn't have asked, dear god. You are going to say no, aren't you? Goddamn it, Phil. Always messing things up." And he starts to run his fingers through his hair, making his hair messing with clay.

 **Yes! I'll come.** I write on a piece of paper I was currently doodling on. He smiles, a big one, the one I like where his tongue sticks out a little.

"Yay! I'm taking you to my house for…um… movie and pizza, and stuff… you can sleep over too, if you would like…not in a dirty way, just, ugh, I'll just take you out somewhere." I smile.

**Give me your number and I can like plan a time with you.**

"Yeah okay." He recites his number to me and I quickly type it in my phone because the rate he was speaking was faster than anything a human can comprehend. I look at the number, as class ends and we get our stuff. It seemed unreal, and as we wait outside, PJ comes and joins us.

"Hello friend and friend's boyfriend." Phil blushes.

"We aren't dat-"

"I know, but you will be soon because Mal can't shut up about you." I hit Peej's arm. "Okay, but you are Phil correct?" He nods. "I'm PJ, Mal's best friend, and I'm here to make sure I approve of you. Favorite show?"

"Buffy."

"You're okay. Good job, Mal. Now what are your expectations for this weekend?" PJ asks.

"How did you-"

"I told Mal, I've got eyes on the inside." I roll my eyes, hitting him again.

"Just going out to eat is all." PJ nods, before grabbing my upper arm about to whisk me away, but I kiss Phil's cheek first, and we start to walk away.

When we get back to my room, I tell PJ, I got his number. PJ widens his eyes to act surprised.

"Does he know?" I furrow my eyebrows. "About this?" He gestures around my room, and I guess I forgot to inform you that after age 8, I was put into an orphanage, and I've remained at the same orphanage for years. I guess my parents got sick of me after all.

 **He doesn't know and he won't know.** But for some reason I feel a churning in my stomach, like I'm doing something unthinkably wrong. I discard it though, like I do with all of my other insane thoughts that seemed to blossom when I first saw Phil.

Soon PJ left, and I started to text Phil, mostly him rambling on about some anime I need to watch, but soon it came on the topic of the date. We decided for a lunch date at one o'clock tomorrow afternoon. I was not ready for that date.

I had gotten myself fixed up, we decided to meet at the restaurant for two reasons that went along with each other. First, I did not want him to see I was an orphan, and second if he did come here, the owner Mandy would ask Phil a million questions, and he didn't need that. I get to the restaurant a couple minutes early, but Phil was already at a table. I smile, and grab the seat. I take out my notebook, and greet Phil.

**Hey, Philly.**

"Please do not call me that." He says, his face hidden in a menu. I take a look, already knowing I wanted a salad.

**You are adorable.**

"Awe, but you're more adorable, babe." I tense up. He just called me- "I-I didn't mean that… It just slipped… I really like you." I laugh a little.

**I like you too… a lot.**

Our date went on smoothly, and soon it came time to tell Phil…the truth. I realize that I didn't want to lose Phil over this, because he is everything I want.

 **Phil… I need to tell you something.** He looks at me thoughtfully. **I'm an orphan… and I'm telling you this now because I trust you and I don't want to keep this from you.**

I didn't know what to expect from there. His smile deflated, and he looks at me. I see the pity in his eyes, and I choose to ignore it for the sake of I hate that look. "Oh…" I knew I shouldn't have told him. "I-I don't know what to say… that's big." I nod. "Do you live in an orphanage?" I nod again.

**I hope you still like me.**

Phil laughs and says, "Why would that change anything? You are the same ole Mal I met that day." I smile, and he grabs my hand as we walk outside.

I must've not been thinking, and he must've not been thinking, but I kiss him… on the lips. That's the moment when my door opened, that door that leads to change and I would have to accept it. I can't keep these secrets and my voice from everyone anymore. It took me months to realize. But when I did, it was three months into Phil and my relationship. We were at his house, sitting in an empty house, on his couch. I decided in that moment when we were deeply investing our stares to each other, and him whispering things in my ear. It was the time.

I tap Phil on the shoulder, my heart beating erratically. "I…My real name is Dan." Phil stares at me, my voice was shaking and raspy. Through our relationship, I hadn't said a word until now. "-and, Phil Lester, I love you… a lot." Phil smiles, and kisses me deeply, and I can't believe I just said my name and to him of all people. I wasn't crying, I wasn't. But inside, I felt free. A weight lifted off my soul.

The next day, I tell PJ. We were at his house, and I come out and say, "My name is Dan." PJ screams, very loud. He hugs me tightly.

"You look like a Dan." I laugh, and for once everything was good.

As I said before, I hate the phrase, 'everything gets better," it's overused, cliché, and the person who wrote that line must have been sick and wallowing in his own sickness. I also hate cliché stories with the main character waiting to get out of the town, but finds love and never wants to leave. But, sadly, I have come to a conclusion, that both of those things I cannot hate anymore, and I now understand them. The overused, cliché line is right, because once I met Phil, things changed. I still want to get out, I still want to see the world, and not be here. I know one day I will go and see things. Just now I won't be alone, I will be with Phil.

-

I'm not picking my skin. I let the cuts fade, and I don't bother to touch them, they are now there forever. I have no need to bite my lip from anxiousness because now I have lips to kiss. I leave my face alone, because Phil says to stop, and I will always look handsome. And well my fingers…are still a mess. I have no need to pull at my hair, and my eyes that were once dull with no emotion or life behind them seemed to disappear. They are now filled with light, and love, and every feeling that Phil has made me feel. I just let life go on. Maybe that wasn't a mistake.

 


End file.
